


Celebrity Status

by CorellianSea



Category: Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Canon Divergence AU, Explicit Language, Fluff and Humor, Good!Anakin - Freeform, Implied Sexual Content, Jedi Leia Organa, M/M, No Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 07:46:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7160582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CorellianSea/pseuds/CorellianSea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <span class="small">In a world where Jedi are seen as idolized celebrities as well as peacekeepers, Luke struggles with the decision to go public with Han.</span>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celebrity Status

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nightingalehall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightingalehall/gifts).



> Inspired by the theme of [this](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=s-VFpsrbWLk) MV.   
>  For my dearest bb! I hope you enjoy this.   
> 

 

 

“You’re a _Jedi_ , you can do this.”

“I am a Jedi, I _can_ do this.”

After slanting his best friend a look of withering optimism, Luke slid onto the seat of his bike, helmet in hand and feeling more nervous than he ever remembered being before. The apprehension he had felt during his trials to become a Knight paled in comparison to now.

A profound groan vented from his speeder as soon as he settled, causing the two to drop their chins in bewilderment from the abrupt sound, and together, they gawked down at the exposed transformer that undoubtedly demanded more than a couple of touch ups. Luke swallowed audibly then, peering up to Wedge who had his hands on his hips, brow cocked and looking as if the turbine had _insulted_ him rather than sputtered— much like how it was doing now until he warily kicked the side of the hull, and it elicited a short chirr, engine running smooth once more.

"I thought you said you fixed the thing?" A hesitant titter arose, "I thought you had the Rogues take a look at it while I was gone."

Wedge's glare to the jumpspeeder buckled but only to challenge Luke’s accusatory inquiry instead, "I did, but damn it, Wes's been real annoying lately. He's been avoiding my transmissions like the plague. Y'know what's that all about?"

Luke hadn't the slightest idea as to what Wes Janson could have been avidly avoiding since he usually was quick to confront when faced with an issue of any sort. With all things considered, Wedge was Wes's commanding officer and behavior like that would only have the Corellian man barreling after him like a badly ticked off nerf. In no time, Wedge would be up and at them, demanding answers, but it was also apparent Wes knew what corners to hide in.

"No idea," the younger shrugged and felt the weight of his outer jacket settle uncomfortably on his shoulders once more, serving to remind him just how misplaced he felt at the moment. Credit should always be given where it was due since it _was_ a worthy effort, after all, Luke's attempt in hiding himself from the general public's intrusive interest in him and his family. Luke unreservedly wished things weren't so difficult to begin with...

Being the son of Anakin Skywalker did have its marvelous aspects as well as utter downfalls: Anakin, his father; unofficially dubbed ' _The Chosen One'_ , a full-fledged Master amongst very few Jedi left in the galaxy, and those facts aided in casting quite a burnished spotlight right over his head from the moment he was born, along with Leia of course, though, whereas he struggled with the lack of privacy, she managed the whole 'publicity' business significantly better than he ever could.

"Okay, let’s forget about Wes right now— so, are you going to be sitting on your speeder this whole time or what? ‘Cause if you are, one; you’re terrible at dates, I mean where’s he? And two; why did I come with you?” Wedge paused, eyes widening in mock realization, his tone derisive, “Unless— oh _Lukey_ , I didn’t know you felt that way for me. If you wanted a night out on the town with little old me, you could’da just asked.”

“ _Ha ha_ , you’re _hilarious_ , my sides hurt from laughter,” he pressed, monotonous in tone as he rolled his eyes. Luke then clasped his helmet a little tighter, lips compressed thin, "And because— ! You said _you_ would help me if I got nervous, and if the public recognizes me, you could throw yourself under the transport while I get away."

Wedge made a wounded sound, his right hand slapping over his heart as dark brows knit, "Aw, Luke, I'm touched by what you think I'd do for you."

"Hey, _you're_ the one who offered if my clothing didn't throw enough people off, you just didn't take into consideration the reality of what it would be like if it happened.” Luke tugged the sleeve of his bright yellow jacket, a slight grimace beginning to show as transient judgment informed him he may be drawing more recognition to himself rather than deter with how polished the garment was looking in Coruscant's broad daylight. "Besides, you owe me for the last time. Should I remind you?"

"Nope," hand raised high, Wedge shook his head, "No need to remind me, thanks. I’ve apologized about that more times than you've been zapped by that damn training droid, and that's saying something.” The end of his eyebrow raised, punctuating his statement.

Luke gave a sad excuse for a simper and rotated to stare down at his bike again, purposefully stalling for reasons he didn't want to think about, and at the same time, he distantly grew concerned for his own well being. Luke’s ancient speeder didn't exactly pass all the required safety standards for Coruscant's permanently clogged pathways but Luke didn't exactly want to be hailing a taxi in order to get to his destination either— for reasons he disliked acknowledging, even to himself.

It was all quite remarkable to Luke; how incredibly fast the paparazzi succeeded in obtaining any and all information on him; how only a single individual was all that was needed to identify him. For all he knew, it all simply depended on the time and location before all comprehensive hell would simply, in no doubt, break loose, and a throng of fans would be after him at the drop of a hat.

The galaxy had a clear cut obsession as to where Luke was going, what Luke would be doing, who was Luke accompanying and so on. Rather open about it too— asking whether or not Luke liked to sleep with a wet mop of hair or dry, if Luke liked his vegetables; how many _children_ Luke wanted— _anything_.

Holojournalists would, in all likelihood, be just as keen to know details on if the young man preferred to eat breakfast before or after brushing his teeth as they would be for a local terrorist attack happening on a nearby system.

Somehow, they would probably manage to cover both subjects with frightening capability.  

The media's thirst for knowledge concerning his private life couldn't seem to be slaked from what Luke had determined early on in his life, and he supposed they were so perpetually desperate and frantic to discover every little thing just because Luke was considered one of ‘The Last Jedi’.

Though to be fair, there was more than a handful left in the galaxy— but to be very straightforward, none of them were as _young_ as he, viewed to be as _handsome_ or actually lived on the press driven— no— _dependent_ planet; Coruscant. Luke couldn't blame the other masters and padawans seeking a more quiet life, however, it was merely because he didn't technically have a choice in the matter.The involuntary decision regarding his residency on Coruscant more or less had everything to do with the never ending amount of peace orientated embassies delegated by the Alliance to aid the outer rim or the required training he had received from his father along with the multitude of celestial beings who took part prior to his knighthood.

And  _oh boy,_ the idea of Jedi speaking to phantoms ultimately remained completely unfathomable to the public, in spite of his many coerced interpretations on the magic in question, conclusively leading to even _more_ , popularity and idolization. Nevertheless, the subject was never important, Luke had concluded after one distinct occurrence. Paparazzi ate up all that left his mouth and it seemed, with revolting merriment, they relished in twisting his words, braiding comments with themes wholly unrelated to anything spoken prior, and pressures condensed after a few particular occurrences.

Luke cautiously surveyed the area, apprehension proved transparent with how he still lingered, loitering around with Wedge. Sticking too close to someone who wasn't his sister was most likely  _not_ the best idea to have started with, but out of everyone that could have asked to accompany him, _Wedge_ was the one who had offered kindly— if only Luke had just kept his hands to _himself_ that one time— 

Anyone within the Alliance wouldn't have second guessed the choice; Wedge Antilles lived up to the title of ‘Luke Skywalker’s best friend’, and that _included_ all of the stupid, no good, bantha fodder loving shit best friends did too.

The last time he had been seen out with Wedge had been a complete nightmare.

Subsequent to his return to Coruscant from a deputation on Garos IV, Luke discerned the fact he had developed a penchant for adequate liquor, nothing like the stuff he grimaced at when Uncle Owen let him try some Tatooinian beer when he haf visited distant relatives with his father. Luke would have never suspected negotiations with the natives of Garos IV would somehow invariably lead to them draining several servings of local brew while in the midst of consulting matters of planet-wide peace. Though, at the time, he didn't exactly know that any refusal of the cordial hospitality would've been considered a damning act of thorough irreverence, therefore, if Luke didn’t appreciate what was offered to him with utter gratitude, then the proposal for Garos IV to unite with the Alliance was as good as a dead power pack.

Howbeit, the initial protest burst from his lips before he realized, stemming from a disciplined habit of turning down any alcoholic refreshments in the past, especially drinking in the midst of official matters. To Luke’s relief, the natives didn't take an instant offense, merely huddled up to murmur amongst each other. Luke sought to clarify how Jedi had no value, no call for such devices, but the natives only rebounded from their hushed undertones to stare at him as if he were mad, confusion candid in their massive, striking eyes, expressing sentiments that left him uneasy as he sat across from them. Vague, barely humanoid aspects succumbed to the robust expressions, reminding Luke they were _just_ that; not human.

In result, whether it was the underlying uneasiness that failed to neglect him or the fact he could have very well been _blitzed_ by the end of the conference— and solely not having yet realized it for himself; Luke swilled more expensive wines, bourbons, and scotches than he ever had in his undivided twenty-four years of existence. Furthermore, as the fates would have it, even finalizing the contract prolonged negotiations neither function had anticipated. Consequently to that, he stayed on the planet with only mild disinclination and refined his palate ever more. The locals proved tenacious in gifting him with more liquor, piling his military transport with various delicious brews until his pilots notified him that any more would lead to exceeding the maximum import limit.

And well, naturally, upon returning to Coruscant, Luke set out to gloat to Wedge, coolly defied him to a night out in the lower levels to see who would bracket up the bar on the hard stuff since Wedge could never stop teasing him about his inability to appreciate alcohol. The Corellian in him probably dictated a majority of it— and _naturally_ , Wedge accepted, eyes narrowed as that same Corellian pride swelled to the challenge, conflagrant in his chest, and in all likelihood calescent enough to blister a hole through his uniform— at least, Luke didn't doubt the possibility with how their night pretty much blanked itself out when he thought too hard about it.

In spite of Luke's rather infant experience on drinking, he felt up to having a spot of fun at the time, the liquor conceivably granted him the confidence to be daring, and to Luke’s surprise as well as sheer delight; he hahad won the match. The stakes were high, almost too high apparently, by reason that both parties suffered such immobilizing intoxication that Luke drunkenly requested— _spluttered_ — Lando pick them up from the strip, much to Calrissian's displeasure, muttering something along the lines of ' _dumb kids'_ and ' _lightweights'_.

Luke hadn't needed to look twice at the approaching mob in the distance, paparazzi met them head on at the cantina, wild and prepared to document anything with holocams and microphones shoved into their faces.

_Knight Skywalker, why are you drinking? What is the matter?_

_Skywalker, have you anything to say for this immature behavior?_

_Mr. Skywalker, is there anyone else accompanying you this evening?_

Best of all—

_Commander Antilles, is this a date or a friendly get together?_

Humiliation branded his cheeks pink as he tugged the collar of his jacket up and over his mouth, all at once self-conscious and wary as the recollection replayed in his conscious.

Coruscanti media goaded them on in their inebriated state, charged topics others had yet to receive answers to, exorbitantly pleased that the ordinarily taciturn Jedi was so responsive unlike times before— that was until Wedge ran his mouth so fast Luke couldn't possibly check him in time, blurting out that his best friend had yet to date anyone at twenty-three years old; how Luke had never kissed someone  _much less_ anything more.

Mortification washed over him like an ice cold wave, reaching temperatures feasibly paralleling that of Hoth. In consequence, vexation ballooned as crimson dyed his cheeks, streaked red and molten, and it distorted the usually unflappable demeanor. Mixing bitter chagrin, abashment, coupled along with the fact he had been seeing double since pretty much being slung over Lando’s shoulder, Luke expeditiously blanked all traces of his better acuity and he laid a fat, wet kiss on Wedge’s mouth in front of  _Coruscant Daily._

Wedge rapped at his shoulder whilst horrifying flickers of the vision began sparking back to his memory, the holocam's glares blinding him for a fraction of a second and Luke shook his head adamantly as if shaking the image out himself. Luke turned to him, blond hair sticking in all directions, looking nothing short of disheveled as he swallowed nothing down, the back of his throat stuck together in the process. Somehow Luke’s mouth was desiccated of moisture and he craved something to wash down the phantom feeling of dread the memory left bolted in his stomach.

Out of nowhere, Wedge had a forced, toothy smile stubbornly plastering on his face as the fervor behind the once reassuring pressure on his shoulder exceeded that of comfort, now nearing painful from friction. The pace of his best friend’s palm worked ever faster until it flew from his neck to the tip of his shoulder, impatiently displaying his blatant lack of tolerance for Luke’s apprehension. The blond swatted at Antilles then, scowled lightly with a mocking, blithe attitude and then punctually extended his stalling by remarking how his shoulder could've caught fire lest he had kept going. Luke adjusted his jacket once more, soaking in the vivid yellow tones, polysynth shined like a beacon.

To tell the truth, had Wedge _really_ ignited his shoulder with his infamous impatience, he would be coughing up credits left and right to pay for the overpriced coat and not so much on his medical bill. Luke still remembered buying it, discreetly griping about the pretty sum of credits it'd cost him, while at the same time, Leia's voice rang insistently in his head, advising him that his choice in fashion should be altered soon, if not first if he wanted to blend into the public.

“Careful, Wedge, Leia had one of her fashion designer friends made this for me, it’s one of a kind you know. She’d kill us both if it’s not kept in perfect condition.” His excuse passed for a reasonable one even though Luke would have bravely welcomed the combustion of his shoulder and jacket rather than face what he was about to do. Sadly, the latter of his sentiments was transparent to the other pilot and he knew he had dawdled for far too long by now.

“Two problems: you’re putting this off and I’m getting hungry.” Wedge tapped at his chronometer, eyes narrowing further when Luke brushed him off. “Isn’t he waiting for you? You’ve been sitting here for almost fifteen minutes. Y’know, I could just drive you there instead, I don't mind—”

“ _No_ — ! No, but thanks, Wedge. I know I’m stalling. I’m a little nervous but I have plenty of reasons to be, so cut me a break here.” Wedge noted the way Luke’s shoulders slumped low, “He’s something… different—… from anyone else I’ve ever met. I really don’t want to mess anything up.”

Leaning against a towering glowpost where Luke’s speeder hovered, Wedge crossed his arms and looked beyond the heavy traffic a few meters away from them, “The only thing considered a mistake in this whole situation is you keepin’ him waiting for you. That, and you’d be makin’ a mistake if you didn’t treat me to dinner after since  _I’m_ the one who introduced you guys to each other.”

The cocky amusement on Wedge’s face grated Luke, finding displeasure in how carefree and casual the Corellian was. Mirth danced in those dark eyes, giving them an annoying twinkle that Luke couldn’t stand at the moment. Privately, Luke wished he had the confidence to exhibit the same emotion for this _was_ a rather amusing situation; Luke Skywalker: experienced Jedi Knight, son of Anakin Skywalker, dubbed: ‘ _The Chosen One_ ’ once or twice as well— yet acting like a shy school boy— in no doubt stumbling over himself on the grounds that he was embarrassed to meet up for a _date_. The commander should have served as his reinforcements of sorts, reinforce him mentally and help supply the confidence he knew he lacked in this particular department, but Wedge would be Wedge.

“He’s waiting for you, come on, Luke,” Wedge barked around a loud yawn, displaying his displeasure of standing around for too long. The pilot cracked open one eye to see Luke was still looking off toward the general direction of his destination, “I could just send him a transmission and tell him he wasn’t good looking enough. ‘Cause I’ve got a couple more friends in line who wouldn’t mind an evening out with you. One or two cousins have asked before too— well— unless you stood _them_ up as well.”

Give or take ten to twenty minutes, and the streets would be due to flood with more people with how dinnertime approached, afternoon waned and evening crept closer. Coruscant Prime would be setting soon, and Wedge didn’t feel like walking back to the next transport station in twilight.

“Shut up,” Luke finally huffed and threw on his helmet, straddling his speeder concurrent to Wedge cupping the sides of his mouth in order to loudly catcall at him. The blond shot off with a deafening roar, made sure to blast some smoke toward one of the Alliance's best pilots and promptly weaved into the traffic of Coruscant. Knocking down his visor, Luke couldn't ease himself of the feeling that had ballooned in his chest, the building pressure making him feel heavy and it suddenly felt hard to breathe. Shaky breaths left him in quiet puffs as cerulean eyes fastened themselves on the little shop down the street way Luke sped along, his target and goal in mind completely clear. Point A to point B was not a difficult concept to grasp and Luke’s destination contained an inexhaustible, unmitigated source of pellucid happiness, and it exclusively resided within a little java shop called _Solo’s._

Inside that very kaf bar was a man Luke simply fell head over heels for— inside; that man worked from dawn till dusk, every day, his way of talking charmed people to return to his business, his lopsided grin considered just as endearing, and the little wink he shot off with intent made people’s hearts flutter.

_Even his._

Luke pressed barely a fraction over the speed limit as electricity shot to his fingertips, toothy smile breaking out on his features when his com beeped and he knew who it was without looking. Luke’s grip on the controls tightened as he veered to the left, stopping shortly after passing a familiar looking door in the back alleyway. All too wary of shutterbugs, he scanned back from whence he came and then the exit a few meters from him, Luke disfavored how close pedestrians strolled along the streets, still too close for his liking. Seeing as to how he could make out their features with ease, he hoped they wouldn’t be able to single him out, even in the shadowed alley.

“Psst— hey there, kid.”

Luke’s gaze immediately pivoted to the left, eager in discovering the source of the sound, elation sent quivers through his stomach— _finally_ , he was here.

“You’re late,” a handsome, older man leaned up against the back door of _Solo’s_ , plasto kaf cup in one hand and the other rested on his hip. “Almost thought you stood me up before I'd assured myself that our last meet up was too good for you to stay away,” a wink flew Luke’s way along with a short gesture using the arm that wasn't resting on his hip.

“Hey to you too,” the blond chuckled coolly despite how fast his heart thumped in his throat, all traces of that foreboding feeling hightailed it upon seeing Han Solo, his heart’s utter infatuation. “I—... had some things to take care of. Sorry, I'm late, do you have it in your heart to forgive me?”

Han Solo shrugged, lower lip raising along with his eyebrows to convey nonchalance, “I dunno. Depends on what you’re willing to do to make up for the time I spent waitin’ here all alone.” Luke looked at him expectantly, waiting until Han pulled his hand off his hip and crooked a finger at Luke, beckoning the Jedi toward him.

Both of them grinned as Luke switched off his speeder— only to go stiff as a board when the engine suddenly made a pitiful wail, taking them both off guard. Luke visibly cringed when the transformer blew a stopper—  followed by a shrieking whine to sound into the air. Roughly twenty excruciatingly long seconds passed before either said anything, “ _Wow_ , Wedge was  _not_ kidding when he told me my old speeder might be cursed— that, or it’s alive with the intent of blowing me up.”

When he turned back, Han was already standing next to him and in the midst of bowing down to check the exposed transformer himself, “Hmn, I think you just need a new power coupling, here, and here, oh— here too… If I had a glowtube, I could see better. Do you have a hydrojack in the carry compartment?” Han was already glancing over the trunk before Luke could say anything else.

Luke raised a brow, “What? Where would I be able to fit a hydrojack on a speeder bike? It’s not like a grav-car, like the one you have.”

Things weren’t going the way Luke imagined, his speeder wasn’t supposed to up and kick the bucket like that— how were they going to make it on time now? Sure it could have passed for scraps at a junkyard, and despite the fact it looked ready to blow at any given time; Luke valued his old bike for two reasons: sentimental importance and the fact it could go sixty visvia in nothing flat, so outrunning possible paparazzi would’ve been an easy feat. In addition to that— and conceivably worst of all, they were going to miss the holofilm Luke had _really_ wanted to see with Han if they loitered around any longer. So, with his chin jutting out, Luke bravely summoned the grit to hook a finger into the front pocket of Han’s vest, pulling the man close to him as he threw his other leg over the seat. “Besides… I thought we were going on a date?” The Knight was sure he looked as hopeful as he sounded.

“We are,” Han readily confirmed albeit distracted by the mechanics of the smoking engine, “I kinda wanted to take a look at your speeder bike before we go— it’s a Joben T-85, right?— I could be wrong ‘cause it looks like the old 614 AvA bikes too— before they recalled them a second time. That damned line was complete garbage, accidentally killed more payin’ customers than they’d sold bikes from just how unstable they were. I had one on Corellia when I was young, one wrong move and you would’ve been a part of the fireworks on Corellia’s festival weeks.”

Luke blinked and took the lukewarm kaf Han offered, eyebrows lifting as the older man went off to diligently study the repulsor cylinders, his right hand rubbed his chin in thought. “Uh, you really know your jumpspeeder models— I’m impressed, I didn’t know you knew so much about the mechanics of land based crafts. Of course, you only ever talked about The Millennium Falcon,” smile lurking as he recalled the time he had taken the bait and asked what exactly was  _The Millennium Falcon_ — and it was as if Luke propelled himself back in time, seated in the academy classroom again whilst lectured in history and origin of space ships. Admittedly, Han proved to be much more entertaining— _stars_!— if only Luke had one of those holocams then, with how Han bucked up to the mention of his ship, sparks flying as he babbled of his past adventures with his co-pilot, Chewbacca, who— Luke had yet to meet on behalf of the fact Chewbacca currently resided on Kashyyyk for the birth of his second cub— but he hoped the chance lay in the near future.

“Hey, the ‘Falcon wasn’t the only thing that’s had my attention over the years, just took up a good part of it back in the day.” Han peered up from chestnut colored fringe, thick locks threatened to shroud hazel eyes and innocently, Luke thought it unacceptable. Vacated of any thought, Luke impulsively reached out to brush the hair from Han’s face, and when he pulled away, both men seemed equally taken aback on account of the fact their newly budding relationship rarely witnessed even casual physical contact.

And— oh no, there it was _again,_ those damned flewts taking off in his gut, patterned wings reflecting a diverse spectrum of blinding color and potent chromaticity left him giddy inside, _especially_ when Han locked eyes with him.

“Yeah— _right_ , I suppose— I suppose you’re right.” Luke shriveled under Han’s tenacious scrutiny, to Luke, it was uncalled for but his behavior hadn't gone unnoticed by the ex-spacer. Undeterred by Luke’s bashful response to his own actions, Han straightened up and made his way between Luke’s open legs, breaching his personal space without prelude.

“’Cause I remember a pretty handsome lookin’ guy hanging around my good for nothin’ cousin more often than not, and he’d caught my eye for a while. Who would’a thought he turned out to be a famous Jedi.” Han winked at him for the second time and brought his hands up to cup the sides of Luke’s helmet in order to pull it off. Luke, however, immediately began to scramble on the bike and just about flopped right off the seat when Han assumed something was wrong and tried _even harder_ to unmask him.

There was no way Luke would allow Han to see through in exposing him to the public, they weren’t indoors where some privacy could be salvaged and Luke would be damned if the night would be ruined before it even had the chance to start. There _was_ a _reason_ as to why he brought his old broken down speeder instead of his comfortable hovercraft, and that was so he wouldn’t be recognized. Those reporters were a fast bunch, they wouldn't stand a chance now that his transport essentially killed itself, “Han— !” Luke slapped his free hand over Han’s, ceasing him from any additional attempts in prying it off again, “What are you doing?”

“What’re you talkin’ about? I'm _trying_ to get this damn helmet off so I can see your face or kiss you or somethin'. Dammit— I shouldn't need a reason,” Han’s eyebrows furrowed lower when he was sure he hahad spotted a hint of color underneath the transparasteel dash. He leaned over a tad more, wanting to make sure that either Luke was dying of heat exhaustion— or Luke was blushing. No matter which hand was dealt, both demanded that he remove the helmet _now_ — especially the blushing part— if Luke was blushing and he was missing it— then life just wasn't fair anymore.

“I can't just take it off, Han, what if someone sees me?” Luke’s arms floundered to his chest and legs, directing immediate attention to his apparel, “Why do you think I look so ridiculous today? It’s a disguise…!”

“Ridiculous—? You look hot,” Han corrected after inching back a fraction to give him an obvious once-over, a greedy look flashed over his features and vanished as quickly as it had surfaced. “I like the jacket and brown pants suit you. And who cares if they see you? What's the worst that could happen?”

And it was then Luke began to sputter as badly as his speeder did before it keeled over, huffs and puffs left him in spasmodic succession, in both disbelief and incredulity from Han’s thoughtless statement. “ _What_ — there are so many that I can't even count them, I can't even _begin_ to— do you not remember the time with _Wedge_?” Luke settled for the most obvious incident, the same one he had been mulling over, the one that made him late in the first place.

Han rolled his eyes, snorting from remembrance, "Yeah, how could I forget. Wedge sent me a transmission blubbering about you 'till I had to com him— when he sobered up that night— two am, mouth clearin’ a teraparsec a minute. ‘N he was tellin’ me he didn't know how he was ever gonna break it to you—”

Luke’s helmet tilted slightly to the left, informing Han that his cousin probably never told him what happened after. “That he didn't like you like _t_ _hat_.”

Luke wasn't sure what he expected Wedge to say, but it certainly wasn't anything that first came to mind. For years, they’d pinned Wedge Antilles as his secret lover in conjunction to being his best friend. Evidently, Coruscant’s public continually looked over the fact they worked within The Alliance together, often partnering them up after seeing a strong harmony between the two, moreover realizing the profound competence to get things done.

“I _didn't_ like him as more than a friend, I don’t think I ever did, really.”

Luke’s clarification would’ve allayed Han in the past, back before Han was formally introduced to Luke by Wedge before Han had begun to lose hope after asking himself if the gossip had something more to it than mere nonsense and Luke saw Wedge as something more.

“Good,” Han grunted out, arms crossing, “Wedge never told me nothin’ about you, in fact, he was surprised I’d ever met you in the past. Of course, I’d met you, you don’t got any idea how much I wanted to cuff him upside the head.”

Luke adjusted the visor in passing, “But I don’t remember meeting you, I only remember hearing about you— just The Millennium Falcon— mostly… During the time, The Alliance hired— what was it?— _skilled_ smugglers, to smuggle goods into restricted space to aid planets depleted of resources, right? The Imperial’s blockading wouldn’t let us through at the time.”

Before Luke even finished, Han tipped his head back and squeezed his eyes shut, instantly regretting his minor slip up. “Right _—_ we _didn’t_ meet,” somewhat sheepishly, Han dropped his head back down, expression remained contorted after seeing that Luke’s memory proved much sharper than his own. “You were in the hanger I was stationed in, ‘n Wedge was around ‘cause I think we were wantin’ to go for a drink.”

To a degree, Luke skirted along perplexity, he didn’t remember Han’s recollection at all. “Oh? What was I doing? Do you remember?”

Han muttered something under his breath and Luke began to see more than one complication with keeping his helmet on, “I dunno,” Han started a second time, fingers weaved through his hair, conscious torn between easily accessing the memory or making a show of how nothing struck a note so he wouldn’t sound like the creep he felt. Having been more than a couple years ago, Luke had been recently introduced to his twenties if not barely on the thresholds of eclipsing his teenage years.

“Han?”

“Right, yeah,” Han’s whistle went flaccid, “You— uh, weren’t doing much, just on your datapad or something. I think you might’ve recently had a rash…  Maybe you had one on your neck, Elominian— judgin’ by the color of it, but I ain’t an expert. You wouldn’t stop fiddlin’ with your ear, kept going back to scratch at it.”

“You remember all that, even the _color_ of my rash?”

Han cocked a finger toward Luke, pointing and ready to redeem himself, “You didn’t exactly try hiding—”

“Because that’s amazing, Han,” Luke beamed affectionately, conclusively propelling whatever words Han readied for his defense, “I’m not kidding, I think it’s impressive you remember that— it’s been years since that blockade.”

And with that, Han’s arm sagged, the curve ball taking a toll on his capacity to grasp that Luke didn’t find him to be a total louse for intently eyeballing him at one point in the past. Finally, Han straightened up after clearing his throat, “Call it a lucky guess.” Han regarded Luke from behind the fist held over his lower face, “It was— uh— hard…— to keep my eyes off you anyway.” _One_ more forced cough, “But yeah, I remember the incident with Wedge good enough, other than the obvious, what’s so significant about it?”

As his line of sight glued itself to the permacrete below them, Luke contemplated the feasibility of his helmet coming to constrict and inflate with too much heat, and he envisaged just how badly Han would fly off the handle if he passed out then and there. Luke exhaled loudly, steaming up the transparasteel enough to have Han pointedly raise a brow at him, “Don’t you remember after it all happened— when people would not stop following him? They followed him to work, to his home— people  _stalked_ him.”

“And they already do that to you, it's nothing new.” Han waved his hand in dismissal and Luke could only fiddle with the light gray flimsiplast the kaf cup was binded with, “If you could get used to it, then so could I.”

A hard shake of his head followed, “Han, I don’t think you understand. Wedge is… _Wedge_. It’s just— the fact he handled it so well is because of his personality, he has military experience with handling the public. His patience toward Coruscant is godlike compared to his normal measure.” Luke took his best shot to lighten up the mood, humorously mumbling out, “Unlike his cousin I know.”

It _was_ the unvarnished truth; Wedge never paid much attention to all the fingers pointed his way, many a time opting to unpretentiously tune them all out, taking no notice to the ever expanding suspicions against them whereas Luke tore apart at the seams in private, even from the smallest of things. Admittedly, his tolerance was lower since exasperation wore him out, no two ways about it. Opinions perhaps carried a little too much weight for a Jedi Knight at times, and bridling the susceptibility was more often than not a vain endeavor on his end. If only he knew Leia’s secret on how she dealt with it…— if there was a secret to begin with— perhaps nobody picked on his other half due to how Anakin was quite a force to be reckoned with when it came to his beloved daughter.

All at once, the same, icy mortification washed over the back of his neck, faint in comparison to when that fateful night, he stood in front of Coruscant Daily and smooched his best friend out of sheer petulance— but it was enough to make him falter a second or two. “I suppose I was just mad about what he said, that's all. Looking back at it, I was immature about it— _drunk_ too— and I was already too conscious of the fact people liked to wonder who I’ve been with.” Luke hung his head, helmet causing the resignation to appear passably comical as he bobbed, “Jedi training takes up a lot of time, it took a lot of my childhood, and father didn't exactly want me focusing on relationships then. Not like now— _stars_ , it’s like he kicks me right out of the house to meet people these days, but only people he's interrogated to pieces, though.”

Han frowned at how the mood sobered in a way he wasn't sure he liked. Luke lifted his head on after Han coaxed him to look him in the eye, fingers tickled the bottom of the helmet where he could feel the skin of Luke’s chin and jaw. “S’alright, kid, you had other things to focus on. There's nothing to be embarrassed about. It's stupid that people care that much about who you've kissed and who you're seeing, but I don’t think you should be caring back that much in the first place. Try to take it as… flattery.”

“Of course I _have_ to care, Han, if I didn't care, I could ruin my image as a Jedi, a noble peacekeeper,” Luke groaned at Han’s predictable reasoning, having heard too many similar methods of how to deal with gossip in the past. “And Leia’s too, plus— my father. What if I shamed my father?”

“Are you talkin’ about you havin’ a same sex relationship?” Han crinkled his nose, “‘Cause I got a mouthful or two for you— first off, your _dad’s_ been with old man Kenobi for… _Gods_ know how long. I still remember that one time Wedge told me that he’d heard them while—”

“No, _no_ ,” Luke began to object but suddenly felt he lacked the strength to continue the debate, “I meant… Aw, blast it, Han, you won’t understand what it’s like. I appreciate the sympathy but the press’s never been nice to people like me. They like to twist things around and distort the truth a lot of the time. I’ve had a lot of close calls with that and sometimes I worry I might tarnish the reputation of all Jedi out there... One wrong move from a bumbling, sorry excuse for a Knight like me and—”

“ _Hey,_  stop it right there before I stuff you up with cake ‘cause I got a fresh batch of ‘em in the back,” Han jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, indicating the back door to _Solo’s_ while scowling at the self derision Luke candidly displayed. “Don’t push me, kid.” The threat was lukewarm at best, though, Luke knew Han did have a supply of delicious cakes in the kaf house. “So they’re not gonna stop,” Han hooked his thumbs to the loops of his un-holstered gun belt, personal resolve unyielding to Luke’s pensive cynicism, “And there’s nothing you can do about it— moving on from that seems like the best way to go.”

“You know… Father said something close to that before,” blue eyes remained fastened to the handlebar of his bike until Luke eventually decided it would be better to face Han for what he planned to say next, even if the visor started to annoy him now with how it reflected sunlight straight into his own line of vision. “He said that if I wanted the press to stop following me— for them to stop firing off opinions about me, and just have them stop gossiping and judging me forever— I would just have to hope for it because there’s nothing I can do directly to change it. Simply have to keep hoping and hoping till the day I die, and even then— people will _still_ have opinions about me and probably still talk about me when I'm gone.”

Han instantly cringed, face instinctively contorting to a fierce wince from the harsh statement Anakin asserted in the past, truth be told, he wasn't so sure he wanted to meet the family in the near future— or well, at all. “Er, yeah, I guess he’s right.”

Luke’s smile was mirthless as he pet the dome of his speeder helmet, “I guess I frankly didn’t want to see it that way, the reality of it— I didn’t even want to take it into consideration any more than my father did before we were born, because suddenly the same eyes that were on him were on us now too.” He felt Han’s hand on his shoulder, both warm and inviting and he leaned into the touch, acknowledging him. “You know what? I think I realize how Leia manages to turn a deaf ear to everything they say.”

“Yeah? And how’s that?” Han blinked quickly, doing his best to chase after Luke’s rapidly shuffled topics.

“I think Leia does listen, no matter what she says. I know she listens because who could ignore them when strangers can affect your life so much? I think she simply chooses to not take it to heart— and me?— I _know_ I take it too seriously; what people like to say about me. I care too much about what they think and what they assume about even the people in my life when I know I really shouldn’t let it influence me. I just can’t help it!” Luke’s arms weakly propelled into the air, a direct contradiction to the volume of his voice, especially when they slapped over the tops of his thighs, resting limp. “I don’t understand why I do. Why can’t I be like Leia? She’s always had a better handle on everything, even when we were training.”

“You don’t have to be like her though, just be you, be yourself.”

“It’s not so simple when it’s obviously not worked.”

The Corellian scratched at his chin, uneasy about Luke’s bland response. All the right things to say fled like greased lightning and no matter what he said next, it would be for naught— at least, that’s how Han saw it. Not much could really go up against obstinate viewpoints, Han learned that long ago from his elder sister by a wide margin, chiding something similar to him in decades past.

At somewhat of a loss, his weight shifted to his other leg as silence blanketed over the two, deafening muteness stilled over lingering awkward sentiments, sparing them for the time being until he realized something right when the pressure evened out in his ankle. Han cupped the side of the helmet and rubbed his thumb over the faded designs, obviously a custom home paint job seeing as to how Luke’s messy initials were faded near his forefinger. Han began chuckling softly after realizing he found the sight endearing and it only added to the weight of his words, “Alright, _kid_ , your heart’s sitting’ on your sleeve half the time, it’s true, anyone that’ve got one or two eyeballs can tell it's genuine, but I don't think it's the main issue here, ‘n you know how I know that for sure?”

The blond stared back, perturbed by Han’s query and watched closely as Han lifted an arm, palm going limp in an ‘it's so obvious’ gesture. “You clearly got a problem of putting the galaxy right on top of your shoulders, kid, and the more you do that— the louder their voices are gonna get.”

The knight worried his bottom lip in contemplation, barely having enough room to do so, Han hadn’t completely missed the mark. In fact, if his stubbornness could’ve taken a hike for longer than a minute, then maybe Luke would have considered Han longer than the two seconds that’d passed before spouting, “I _don’t_ put the world on my shoulders. I mean— I certainly _worry_ about the state of the galaxy, it comes with being a Jedi, but I don’t carry the burdens of the other worlds out there. There's a big difference, Han.”

The Corellian exhaled heavily through his nose at that and quelled the compulsion to throw his head back and count off how many examples he could use so Luke could hopefully come to terms with a reality anyone who wasn’t his partner would more than likely perceive without difficulty. “Nevermind, let’s move on from that— I know what you’re saying but we should be askin’ the real questions here.”

Bleakly, Luke nodded to indicate Han to inquire freely, “Are you happy doing…— this? ‘Cause you seem unhappy keeping the truth from people, and you seem unhappy when people know the truth, I dunno what to make if it anymore.” Han pinched the bridge of his nose for a split second, “‘N _yeah_ , sometimes it ain’t always a hundred percent accurate when people report news about you, but at least they got the gist of it, right?”

Han shrugged helplessly when Luke’s eyes clouded over with something he couldn't put a name to— _sadness?_ — Han didn’t know, didn't want to know, and so he looked away from it. “I think you have got to live your life the way you want ‘n I—”

A surge of something vaguely cryptic flooded his chest, “‘N y’know what I’d do? I’d shove it in their noses— want information on me?— ask away ‘till I’m too godsdamned boring to be asked anymore. Wanna know who I’m fucking ‘round with?— sure, _why_ not _?_ — Wanna know where I’ll be tomorrow night?— Gimme your comm codes and I’ll invite the lot of ya myself— let them see for themselves how you're just like every other person out there, just trying to live your life. ...Buncha _morons_.”

Han talked with his hands, directing desultory gestures until they ultimately paralleled at his side, tightened into fists and falling toward resignation. “That’s just me though, ‘n I don’t expect you to do the same, but you only got one life to live. Live it for yourself, Luke, not for others— _yeah_ , your duty is your duty, but Jedi or not, there’s a line there.” A short lapse of time, “I dunno Luke, maybe it’s ‘cause of the old spacer in me, not wantin’ to let people get the upper hand— just my two credits on it.”

“You’re right, absolutely right.”

Han booted the lingering fragments of despondency when he hahad turned back to Luke and the kid was taking off the blasted helmet, golden spun locks falling onto his face, the ends dampened from perspiration, cheeks flushed pink from being stifled for too long, and to Han’s surprise, a determined glare punctually slanted toward citizens walking close to the mouth of the alleyway, oblivious.

“I didn’t look at it that way,” Luke breathlessly said after double taking Han, “Happy they know, happy they don’t know— Han, you wouldn’t mind being on the holonews headlines, right?”

Han’s eyebrows drew together, lines forming between them in an instant, “What? I s’pose I wouldn’t— Luke, why do you got that look— _whoa!_ ”

Han clamored when Luke threw himself over the man, taking a rather literal approach to the word ‘ _pounce_ ’ with how he catapulted off his speeder to wrap his arms around Han’s neck, their chests colliding together to knock the air right out of them and Han stumbled astern, footing gone astray when Luke’s legs wrapped around his middle tightly and the force of his ankles hooking together volleyed what stasis Han salvaged after the initial jump, and before he knew it, Han was gravitating downward.

Han blindly wrapped himself around Luke, curling over and him in a protective cocoon to take the worst of the brunt when they would ultimately land on the solid, unforgiving permacrete, mentally affirming Luke would pay dearly by massaging his damned back when it was all over—

 

Only— they _still_ hadn’t hit the floor.

 

Gradually, Han’s eyes opened as he haltingly lifted his head from where he stuffed his face into Luke’s shoulder, shaky hazel orbs met bright blue, beaming and blinding him more than the sunlight behind Luke’s head. The speeder bike paralleled them, though grounded, and for a concise instant, Han thought the whole frickin’ world had tipped itself over.

 _The sunlight behind Luke’s head_ —

“Did we die?” Han asked as soon as he registered the fact that there was no sensation against his spine or his legs— not anywhere except for where Luke held onto him.

“God, damn it— of all the godsdamned ways for—”

“We aren’t dead, Han,” Luke’s snigger triggered a deep set scowl to form and Luke banished it with a kiss, “I got too excited, it’s my fault. I was just so happy about what you said— I didn’t think about what I was doing.”

Somewhere inside his discombobulated cognizance, Han had always known that the Force had some authenticity to it— Jedi must have been doing _something_ right for thousands of years with how they managed to default into the position of arbitrators no matter how much of the odds managed to stack up against them, though— crazy monks who had fancy hot swords may or not have crossed his mind at one point as well. Mostly by reason of the fact Han had never met a Jedi until Wedge grabbed him by the shoulders and all but threw him into The Alliance to work free trade in order to ease up the growing infamouscy that threatened to cement to his name.

In other words: Han Solo had little to no experience with the Force and Jedi— and to put it lightly, Han may or may not have a tendency to blow his stack when Force related stuff happened around him.

Another radiating smile blanked Han’s remaining thoughts until the overall bizarreness of the situation stuffed his mouth full of ornery imprecations and he held them at bay with a fierceness. Han stripped away emotion altogether, his statement a bland drone as he leered at nothing in particular— guilelessly avoiding Luke’s search for unity by eye contact.

“We’re floatin’ aren’t we?”

“Well, I had to catch us somehow.”

“Can we… Y’know— …— _not_ float anymore? I like flyin' but in my own ship.”

When Luke didn’t answer, Han understood Luke had found amusement in his expense, therefore, Han grunted something out before attempting to roll them, lurching his body forward in spastic intervals, all to get them to flip over— feasibly he could stand up on Luke’s body or something—

“Han, I’m gonna lose control!”

Luke’s voice hemmed the boundaries of abrupt trepidation and Han steadied their bodies as they swayed, once again, bracing himself to sponge the inevitable impact—

 

They hovered.

 

“Are we actually gonna hit the floor or not— ?” Han scowled at Luke prior to his lungs getting walloped clear of air, back crashing against the permacrete and Luke landing unceremoniously atop him— bouncing on to his chest and rattling his ribs— _again_ , knocking out what oxygen he had managed to draw back in. Han coughed once or twice and stifled the rest, too disgruntled to show anything else in spite of the fact his throat felt horribly grated since he had pretty much howled out his surprise.

“Sorry,” a curbed giggle, “You wanted down, I obeyed is all.”

It was likely Luke had something else to say after that, perhaps he may have even followed up with something— Han never had a chance to make a pass at it for Luke’s articulation drowned out to the sound of boisterous clamoring, amplifying and expanding until Han tipped his head astern and witnessed a small, bottom side up throng of people making their way toward the two, jostling each other wildly.

Heart racing, Han began to shift his legs, drawing them upward to plant his feet on the ground, wanting to get leverage to pull them up. Luke, much to Han’s utter perplexity, chose to not aid in his efforts and simply slumped between his legs as if getting comfortable. Han’s head shot up at that and began edging controlled alarm as he sought to identify what could be— _pleasant surprise?_ — on Luke’s face.

No, no, _no—_ this is _not_ what he meant— not what he meant at all!

Luke dropped his chin swiftly, “Han, do you want to come over for dinner tonight?”

“U-uh, sure—? Why the sudden invitation?” Luke slid off him and stood, promptly helping Han up by stretching out a hand and pulling him to his feet, right when the crowd met them head on, looking to have bloated twice over in size since Han last saw.

“Hello sir, are you the owner of _Solo’s?_ ”

“Sir, excuse me, what is your relationship with Knight Skywalker?”

“Solo— over here, hello! You’re _live_ on _Corellia Times_ , we’ve had our eyes on you—”

“Mr. Solo, what have you to say for your public indecency?”

“There _wasn’t_ any public indecency— ain’t nothing like that!” Han barked at them, silencing the mass all for a split instance until the cacophony of commotion resumed where it left off, continuing to swell like the tides of Tyrena.

Luke waved politely at them, extending his greeting whereas Han squashed the urge to swat at all the people who got too close to him, just barely able to catch Luke’s response to his question, not far from forgotten thanks to the horde that seemed to seize all sense and thought.

“I figured it would be the right thing to do since my father doesn’t know I’m dating, and I’m pretty sure we’ve already hit the holonews.”

As if on cue, Han noticed a distant holo viewscreen come to life above them on a nearby Coruscanti skyscraper and bowled over when the screen displayed recorded footage of the both of them tangled together on an alleyway floor, limbs twined tightly and faces close— _we were just talking...!_

Of all the ways Luke's father would ever first lay eyes on him— Anakin Skywalker was going to see _that?_

Han did a double take to Luke, astounded by the celerity, and upon turning back— the picture was gone and replaced with his bewildered mug moving about the screen. Han ducked wildly in the midst of watching himself, not quite grasping the idea that _he_ was on the viewscreen for all of the planet Coruscant to see.

“Aw, _shit_ ,” Han rasped aloud, deflated as he gaped at himself and then all but jumped straight out of his skin when his own voice boomed from the neighboring skyscraper.

Luke caught him, grinning as a microphone— _still too close_ , _dammit!_ — Han nudged it away from his mouth and the Holojournalist didn’t seem to mind the rough treatment, seemed rather used to it even.

“Han Solo, how do you feel about your new celebrity status?”

Luke looked at him expectantly, though he wasn’t sure what Han would say, either of them were acutely aware of whose reputation remained more at stake, so instead, Luke mirrored the aphonic treatment Han doused at them till the masses grew too restless and left or Han’s patience would eventually snap. _Yeah—_ just ignore them—

“Mr. Solo, if you aren’t going to be answering questions, will you _please_ release a statement for Coruscant’s public?”

“... Ladies and gentlemen, you all ever seen a Wookiee?” Han began smoothly, “‘Cause it’s a sight to see, y’know, too bad my Wookiee co-pilot, Chewbacca, ain’t here ‘cause he’s real nice with people and likes humans a lot. Oh, real protective of me too 'cause he's my best friend— great company 'n all during long flights.” An unprecedented sneer abruptly tugged the corner of his mouth, “Unless you get him angry— you don’t wanna piss a Wookiee off, everybody knows that. Their ways to get even ain’t exactly pleasant.“

Unknowing of the bait cast, a journalist asked, “What do they do to ‘get even’, Mr. Solo?”

“They like to rip people’s arms right outta their sockets.”

Han took great satisfaction when sonance censored, ceasing entirely until only quiet murmurings sounded; Han slanted his head to look at Luke whilst keeping an eye on the press team, whispering, “So what’s for dinner? Semi-formal, I'm assuming?”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Talks with @nightingalehall led me to listen to Chinese artists again, which if you didn't watch the video— the ending was sad and I refused to have sad in my hanluke omg but it was great inspiration to flesh out the idea I already had about Jedi being seen as celebrities.   
>  Tbh this really went way of out of hand. It was a short 1.5k and then...    
>  Corellia Times is also canon in Legends, can you believe this? 90% of the material I use is from wookiepedia. Amazing.    
>  I hope you guys enjoyed! Please leave comments and Kudos if you liked it. :)


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